Gone
by Jamsel
Summary: Jess is gone and Rory blames herself. Please R&R Chapter 6 now here
1. The sweetest thing

Title: Gone

Rating: PG-13

Summary: Jess is gone and Rory blames herself. R&R

Disclaimer: I don't own Gilmore Girls. 

AN: It's my debut into the world of fanfiction and I'd definitely appreciate some feedback, some encouragement so take a little time and drop me a quick line. Love it? Hate it? I'm not a mind reader, u tell me!!!

A sad smile played on my lips as a tear rolled down my cheek and fell into the water creating ripples. That's all that he did for my life, create ripples, good and bad. The hard, rough wood of the bridge creates lines in my hands as I grip the edge. He's gone, he's not here and more tears fall, more ripples moving out wards getting bigger, joining together. He's gone, I think. I can't take thinking about him leaving; the story plays through my head like and endless movie, a comedy, a drama, a dramedy. I'd written everything down in my journal, which I was holding in my lap. I opened it to the first entry and begin to read. 

March 4/ 2001

He thinks my life has been easy. Sure I grew up in a bubble, Stars Hollow, the perfect little town detached and isolated from the "real world." My life wasn't easy, maybe I don't know what its like to wonder down dark streets at night, see people get shot but I know what it feels like to be hungry. I know what it's like to wear worn and old clothing and to scrounge for food. I know what it's like to live without TV, water, telephone, electricity, running water. My memories are solid in my mind, every incident chasing the next in a never-ending PG rated movie. I want to be able to talk to him without being judged. I want to here about his experiences, the events that intrinsically shaped the complicated person he is today. The complicated mind, the unsmiling expressionless face, the eyes that give away absolutely nothing, leaving everything to the imagination, the wall he's put up to save himself. The mouth that speaks words and phrases that leave me thinking until the stars are overhead, thoughts with a strange amount of depth and profound application. 

********

That was my first thoughtful entry about him, after we shared the picnic, I'd written about him coming here, to Stars Hollow, but never anything I felt, the strange bottomless feeling whenever I looked inspired me, as my anger at him. Anger. I don't know why. I understood a lot of things; most things but I never understood him. He came into my life like a tornado surprising me and scaring me. We were one in the same appreciating books many people will never read in their lifetime. I flip through a few more entry's about Lane and consequently quite a few arguments with Dean. As I flip I pause glancing at the words, angry about how much I depended on him, It's kind of depressing to read, so I flip to another entry and read. 

March 19/2002

I want to go into his mind and discover all the things that he left behind. I want to know who gave him his first book, the reason why he was sent here, I want to see the "Jess movie." I don't want to see the family rated Dean movie that consists of a booster shot and a runaway dog. I want to be able to express my opinion, not be turned around and sent into the kitchen with a smile and a chuckle, I won't be ignored. I won't be Donna Reid. I want to be swept up in a whirl wind debate about the language used by Ernest Hemmingway, the true message conveyed in "Howl," (which he so honestly conveyed in his notes.) I want to yell out my opinion and have the entire moment shattered by the subsequent make-out sessions. I want to talk about books and censorship. I know that the definition of censorship is even too large for Dean to comprehend. So my next question is "is wanting someone else a sign of not loving someone? Is it possible to love someone and hold feelings for another?" Which brings me to the second question that has plagued me since my brooding black haired buddy showed up. "Did I ever really love Dean, or did the statement stem from desperation, to stall him, keep him from the abrupt exit that I knew was going to occur if I didn't say something. I liked the security I felt with him. So did I really love Dean? Ever? I don't now.

****

I smile remembering the night I wrote that entry. I had discovered so much after hanging out with him. I knew that I couldn't hurt Dean though. I didn't want to hurt him, I don't like hating people, but now I hate myself because Jess is gone, and it's because of me. It's my fault. I flip through another week of suffering fights with Dean, over petty things like movies and his grades. Him calling me condescending, me retaliating with surprise that he knew the meaning of the word. That's when I reach the best entry, one of my favorites to read.

April 12/2002

We broke up. I saw him kissing Debbie Perce in the Gazebo. I found out later that someone had told Dean that I'd done things with Jess, things that I'd never do. I told Dean that I didn't do them later and he believed me. He thought that we were back together, but I slammed the door in his face, he's not exactly the brightest light on the block. He tried calling; I either didn't pick up the phone or picked it up and slammed it back down. I got tired of the ringing and went down to the bridge. Eventually Jess showed up and we talked, a lot. About every topic I'd ever dreamed of. That's when I realized that it was he. That I needed him. 

*****

I remembered that night perfectly. We'd been sitting on that very bridge just talking. He'd told me his story; I'd seen the "Jess Movie" through his eyes. He saw the "Rory movie" and something was different between us. An openness that we'd never shared before. It was the first night he hadn't hid behind the attitude. It was the first time I saw him smile. Footsteps on the bridge made me glance up quickly, slamming my journal shut simultaneously. My mom was standing their about two feet away from me. She walks over silently and sits down. "Luke just called me." I nod. "He told me what happened." I nod again. "Are you ok?" I nod again feeling like one of those bobbing dogs in cars. "Do you just want to hang out here for a while?" She asks.

"I think I just need some time to think." I say staring at my journal. She kisses my head and leaves the bridge. I need time because I have to write. I have too tell the story. 

*******What happened to Jess????************Give me a review and I'll let you know. As in post chapter two.*** Happy Reviewing!!!***


	2. The lie

Title: Gone

Rating: PG-13

Summary: Jess is gone and Rory blames herself. R&R

AN: The poem in this chapter is credited to Vanessa Carlton.

Disclaimer: I don't own Gilmore Girls.

An: thanks for the reviews. J Keep it up

I open my journal to a fresh page thankful for the bright moonlight casting its silvery shadow and the lantern that I remembered to bring. I uncap my bic pen and tell our story, tears running freely down my cheeks hitting the page.

May 26/2002

The last time I wrote in here Jess and I were friends on the verge of something sweeter than I could ever imagine. We never had a formal date, he never asked me to be his girl friend and in the beginning my maverick friend would surprise me once and a while, we'd walk, talk most of the time. Sometimes we'd just lie on the grass and stare at the sky appreciating the complete and utter silence, feeling obsolete. Our bridge was the place we usually go together, sometimes we'd play reading tag and trade books after a certain amount of time. Our first kiss was an amazing experience, something I'll never forget. A million shivers ran through me, yet they were warm and comforting. He awakened something long lost inside me, passion. Passion for life and love interchangeably. After three weeks I was completely at home with him, treasuring our moments, creating new memories and living life in a way that I never new possible. He inspired me to do anything I wanted to, I began to write, not articles, but short stories and poems. I kept them private most of them personal reflections that I wrote for myself. I read through those poems now and realize how extremely happy and relaxed I was during the month and a half that we spent together. And now he's gone. I new something was different the night that we'd been seeing one another for a month. We met at the bridge eating a pizza he'd picked up, celebrating our selves and one another. We'd both changed during the past month in positively wonderful ways. He'd salvaged my passion and I'd drawn him out. He didn't guard himself anymore and I loved it. I loved him, but I couldn't find the words yet, I couldn't find them and I was scared that I might ruin something. He walked me home and surprised me with a new book; I also gave him a book. Later that night I opened the cover of the book and on the first blank page I noticed a message written in blue pen.

I will never see the sky 

The same way

I will learn to say good-bye

To yesterday

And I will never cease to fly if held down

And I will always reach to high

Cause I've seen twilight. 

He had written this poem and he'd written it for me. He didn't sign his name, he didn't write a message, just the utter simplicity of a poem and tears dotted the corners of my eyes, when I read the poem over again. The following day he met me at the bus stop after school just to give me a coffee and a kiss. He hurried back to the diner, a notebook on the ground beside the bench. I called after him but he didn't hear me and I took it home to give to him later. When I reached my house, I decided to open the book just to make sure it was his. I recognized his untidy scrawl and almost closed the book when I noticed my name. 

I sat down and began to read.

January 5/2002

There's something about her eyes that make me want to sit across from her and stare into them for hours at a time. I'm not good enough, I never will be. She is amazing and I'm messed up. She shouldn't effect me the way that she does, she hates me enough already, I try to forget about her but I can't.

**

I turned the page flipping through it a bit more.

January 30/2002

Today I climbed up onto the roof of the diner trying to clear my head. She came into the diner and I froze, hurrying up here to breathe. She's just so different from anything I've ever known and she hates me yet I can't get her out of my head. She's the most unavailable girl in this entire town, forbidden to me especially. 

My heart aches with the feeling that he thought I hated him. I never hated him. I just guarded my self. 

March 2/2002

She doesn't hate me. Thank God. We actually had a picnic today; she can't cook for her life. Thank God for that. Kitchen girls who depend on guys are hopeless. Call me a feminist but I can't understand why a girl would waste her time acting as a housewife or whatever they're called. Bottom line, she called me, on the phone. Which means that we're becoming friends. Friends. 

I smiled at his happiness expressed and his opinions on Donna Reid girls. He certainly wasn't dean. I flipped to the next entry oblivious to what I was doing. 

March 12/2002

She touched my hand today and this bolt of electricity ran up my arm, a warm spreading feeling that made me smile. I think I'm falling in love and it's terrifying. 

I shake my hand out saddened by the fact that I still had his journal and was copying the entries into my own. My own thoughts between them, thoughts I remembered even after two days of pain and anger. I wipe my eyes and nose with a tissue and continue to write finding my solace in the pen and paper. 

**

(rory's journal entry cont'd)

I closed his journal and realized that he loved me. He was in love with me and I with him. The thought made me smile and I decided to change and go over to the diner to return his notebook. Energy alight around me. I walked in and Luke steered me upstairs with a smile, he was glad to see the change in Jess, as were many other people. I opened the door and saw him sitting reading in the room that he and Luke had recently constructed. I plopped down next to him and he glanced up smiling when he saw me. I held out his notebook and his smile turned to a frown. "Where did you get that?" An edge of anger in his voice. I glanced down at the floor. 

"You dropped it today, at the bus stop."

"Why didn't you give it back right away?"

"Well you were already gone and I wasn't sure it was yours."

"You read it." I glanced down again at the floor. he stood up abruptly. "I think you should leave."

"I'm really sorry, I just.

"Just get out."

"But"

"I said leave." I went, realizing the amount of pain that I'd caused him. I'd broken his trust and ruined the perfect relationship we held. I cried. Then Luke called me and said that Jess was gone, he left a note explaining that he was going back to him mom. Jess was gone from my life, and it was my fault. It took me a while to process the reason, why he'd leave. I'd only read his notebook, his thoughts and I was puzzled at his extreme reaction.

*****What will Rory do now?*******Write a review and I'll tell you (as in post chapter three)


	3. Road trip

I closed my notebook the tears starting again. I never thought he would leave, I never thought that he would leave because I read his journal, maybe he thought I was going to break up with him. I'd tried calling him about eight times at his mother's house. Eight times he hung up as soon as I said "hello" and I couldn't lose him over this. I gathered my things and began to walk back to my house glad that school was out for a week for a Spring break. I smiled one of the many perks of Chilton being the numerous holidays thrown at us. I climbed into bed and slept all night and well into the afternoon. When I woke up I tried calling him; I tried five more times, two hang-ups and three unanswered. I was at my wit end and I needed answers. Remembering that he had email I flicked on my computer logging on to my personal email account.

Jess,

I need to talk to you. Please just hear what I have to say. 

Love Rory.

I let my senses go free and began to type out my heart on the lines below.

I need you

I miss you 

And now I wonder

If I could fall

Into the sky

Do you think time? 

Would pass me by

Cause you know I would walk 

A thousand miles if I could just see you tonight

Its all these times like these I think of you 

And wonder if you think of me 

Everything's so wrong you don't belong 

Living in you precious memory. 

I don't want to let you know

Don't leave your memory

I don't want to let this go

I read over the poem quickly and pushed send. I checked my email twice that night and tried calling him three more times. No success. None. The next day I checked my email three times and called four times. Still he wouldn't speak to me. That night I decided that I needed to talk to him, he wouldn't talk to me so I pulled out my map and my wallet picking up the phone. Three hours later I had obtained the address and measured the distance on my map. It'd take me approximately four hours to drive there and four hours to get home, give or take a few. All I needed now was a driving buddy and I was all set. I dialed my mom at the inn and explained my plan. "You have my permission as long as you can find someone to go with you. I can't the health inspector is staying here for three days and Michel might have a hernia if I leave him here by himself. He spent the better part of the morning cleaning the tops of the doorframes. When are you leaving?"

"Well if I can find someone to drive with me, tomorrow morning at around six."

"Jeez, Well I'll see you later tonight ok."

I was determined and I needed someone from Chilton. My first thought was Paris; she and I had reached a truce over the course of the year. She wasn't the most understanding person but she was dependable and we'd formed a tentative friendship, something that I was greatly lacking at Chilton. I dialed her number, she, to my surprise, agreed and I promised to pick her up the next morning at six-thirty. She didn't ask many questions and seemed tired, I was sure that she'd grill me the following morning in the car and was saving up her over flow of questions until then. It was at that time I realized how unhappy I sounded, talking to other people. The sooner I reached New Jersey the better the sadness I felt would become a ceaseless flow of melancholy if I didn't. 

The following morning I picked up two coffee's at Luke's. He raised his eyebrows at me but thankfully he didn't ask any questions. I could handle few things at the moment and parental questioning was something I needed to avoid for survival. The early morning pink sky set me at peace as I drove to Paris' house sipping my warm coffee, the shadow of a smile tracing my mouth. When I reached Paris' house I grabbed the coffee and my backpack getting into her car. She must've been sitting there for a few minutes because the car became a warm solace from the spring chill. I took off my jacket and handed her a coffee.

"Thanks. Are you ready?"

"As I'll ever be, just tell me when you want me to drive." She nodded and drove out of her long, twisting drive way, through the wrought iron gates and onto the highway. I fell asleep and glanced at the clock when I woke up, Paris had been driving for an hour. She glanced over at me, a fait smirk on her face.

"You look like hell."

"Thanks."

"I have a question."

"Only one?" She ignored my comment.

"Why are we driving to New Jersey."

"Well, we are going to get my boyfriend."

"Is he in prison?" She asks cynically.

"God, no." I reply. "You met Jess, right?" She nods. "Well we got in a huge fight and he left town. I've got to talk to him and this is my last attempt at communication. " She nods concentrating on the road again. 

"Why am I here?" She asks after a moment of silence.

"I needed someone to drive with." She nods again and we drive in silence for another hour and she pulls over. I drive the rest of the way, after two and a half hours we're sitting outside his house and I open the car door.

*****What will Rory say??******What will Jess do?********Review and you'll find out (as in chapter four will appear!)********* 


	4. All for nothing

AN: Both poems in chapters 3 and 4 are credited to Vanessa Carlton

The gravel crunches under my feet as I walk up to the small yellow house standing in front of me. Everything seems to be very neat looking and quaint. I smiled with the realization that Jess grew up in a yellow house. The sun is shining and I begin to sweat, stripping my heavy sweater off, delaying the inevitable. I walk up the creaky stairs and knock on the door. Waiting a few minutes, there isn't any answer. I knock again and still I hear nothing from the inside of the house. I glance at Paris who is sitting in the passenger seat her face buried in the Iliad. I knock one more time banging as loudly as I can on the steel front door. I turn and walk back to the car getting into the driver seat I pull out of the drive way and park across the street. Paris looks up at me. " I take it the mission was unsuccessful,"

"Well, there wasn't anyone home."

"Now what?"

"Now we wait." She silently turns back to her book that she is now reading for the eleventh time. She's different, this friend of mine. I climb into the back seat the smooth leather silky under my skin, just the right temperature. I take out a notebook and my journal reading through it again, memorizing the poem he wrote for me, once upon a time, when everything was perfect. Inspiration flows through my pen and it moves across the page, scribbling and crossing out for ten minutes until my masterpiece is at hand. 

Then you walked into my life

And showed what needed to be shown

And I always knew what was right I just didn't know that I might

Peel away and choose to see with such a different light

I will never see the sky the same way

And I will learn to say good-bye to yesterday

And I will never cease to fly if held down 

I will always reach to high

Cause I 've seen twilight

Never cared never wanted 

never sought to see what flaunted

So on purpose so in my face couldn't see beyond my own ways

And it was amazing not to be held 

I could whatever came between these shallow days

I will never see the sky the same way

And I will learn to say good-bye to yesterday

And I will never cease to fly if held down 

I will always reach to high

Cause I 've seen twilight

As the sun shines thorough and pushed away and pushes ahead

Fills the warmth of the blue and leaves a chill instead and 

I know that I could be so blind to all that is so real 

and as allusioned eyes I see that there is so much to be revealed

I will never see the sky the same way

And I will learn to say good-bye to yesterday

And I will never cease to fly if held down 

I will always reach to high

Cause I 've seen twilight

His poem acting as a refrain, a beautiful one I created a weird song like poem. It was really abstract but I knew that he could understand, if he gave me the chance. I copied the poem out again and began to write a message beneath it, something from my heart that I had no control over.

I know I don't deserve a second chance, I know that I shouldn't have read you're journal and I'm honestly sorry but I know that this runs deeper than that. I just want to talk to you. Please. Call this number. 670- 6798. If you care about me at all anymore.

Thankful that Paris had brought her cell phone and we had some form of telecommunication I ran across the street, folding the note and poem into a square with his name on the front. Dropping it through the mail slot I race back to the car, a feeling of raw emotion taking me over I sink in the back of her car again, tears running down my face. Paris hands we a tissue and glances up the street. "Is that him?" She asks glancing at a lone figure trekking down the street towards the yellow house adjacent to us. I sink down flattening myself against the back seat. 

"That's him."

"Aren't you going to talk to him?"

"I'm going to give him an hour to read the note and decide if he wants to talk to me. Do you want to get something to eat?"

"I need a walk, pick something up for me, be back in thirty?" I nod and drive away. I found out later on what happened. 

Paris stormed up the walk of the yellow house pounding on the door trying to look intimidating, as usual. He opens the door and rolls his eyes, a ball of paper in his fist. "What do you want Paris."

"I want you to talk to her."

"I don't see why this has anything to do with you, run along."

"Bite me, your act is boring. You're just as upset as she is."

"Screw you, get off my property before I call the cops." He turned to close the door but she stuck her foot in it.

"I didn't wake up at five thirty this morning to drive up here for nothing. Talk to her, you're scared, so is she." With that she stormed down the steps and left the area walking twice around the block. Waiting for me to return. When I drive up she gets in and doesn't say anything to me about what she did. 

After another half hour we're both scowling up at the house waiting for something to happen. Finally the door opens and my heart leaps in my throut, I feel sick. He crosses the lawn and knocks on Paris's tinted window. She jumps out of the car and he sits down. I glance at her retreating back wishing, for the first time, that I was with Paris instead of Jess.

****What's Jess going to do?***Will Rory screw this up?****Write a review and you'll find out!****


	5. Sunsets and kisses

He turned the ignition and pulled away from the curb. We drove for twenty minutes until we were at a lookout over a lake, picnic tables lining the area; he jumped out of the car sitting on the hood, staring down at the water. We were alone. This uncomfortable silence between us is strange; it feels like the first time that we met, in my room. The night he wanted to sneak out and walk around. I realize that this maverick friend of my, this once, smoldering dark, morose, strange, complicated human is still just as complicated, I still feel the need to sneak into his mind and dig around piecing together every bit of information that he's ever processed. It was the same need I felt looking at a dictionary or encyclopedia, a new book. I glanced around waiting for him to say something. His jaw line, straight, normal cheekbones that didn't make his cheeks look sunken in, but high enough to be considered good looking. The curve of his neck tense, he looks thoughtfully annoyed and the pissed off at the world look is back. If I'd brought something out of him he'd tucked it away in the back of his mind, unreachable to anyone, least of all, me. "You're right, this isn't just about the journal thing." I decided it was best to stay quiet. "Paris came to talk to me." I raised my eyebrows surprised…. Yet…. Not amazingly perplexed. "She's a smart girl." I nod tossing a rock over the edge of the lookout watching it skitters down to a horrible rocky death. "Aren't you going to say anything?" He asks, glancing at me out of the corner of his eye, noticing that I caught the glance, it wasn't exactly conspicuous. 

"Actions speak louder than words," I whisper softly like the breeze, the peaceful moment passing like the warm sun on a cold winter day. 

"You aren't making this any easier," he stated evenly no expression in his voice, I realize that he's drawn himself back inside, the unreadable expression is back and a wave of sadness passes over me.

"It's not supposed to be easy."

"Stop throwing clichés at me." His tone his angry, but I can tell that he isn't.

"You make it to easy." He pauses for a minute, smoldering on the outside, but I can tell that there's something else inside.

"So you drove up here, and I'm supposed to do the talking."

"In an ideal world, that'd be the case, yes." We sit silently, timeless. That moment could have been eight minutes, thirty seconds or an hour. I'll never know but it was the longest wait I'd ever come across. 

"I was scared." He says quietly making a point of not looking at me. 

"Of what?" He's quiet, thinking, I know the face, the thoughtful look that he wears whenever he's reading or thinking or daydreaming. Times spent on the bridge splash back to me like waves, calming and serene. Our entire relationship flashes through my eyes as we sit here, trying to salvage our relationship, keep it together, live the life we'd been living a month ago, happy, together.

"You." The thought of someone being afraid of me… is a bit too much for me to comprehend. 

"I've been working on my intimidating face lately."

"Don't mock."

"Sorry."

"It's just meant… I was afraid of hurting you. The longest relationship I've had lasted a week in the second grade. I didn't know what to do, but this was different. You were different.

"Good different of bad different?" I ask.

"Both."

"I'm a big girl, I can deal with pain."

"I'm a big boy but I don't think I could deal with hurting you."

"If you want big rewards, you gotta take big risks."

"You did not just quote Summer Catch."

"Ha! And the boy admits to seeing that movie."

"Only to see that chick in the skimpy bikini, the one on the Priest Show."

We both laugh and everything feels normal again, we feel normal. My smile is so big that it hurts by cheeks, I try and stop it by biting down on my lip but it manages to escape my teeth. My cheeks stretch and I can feel a pink tinge in them as we sit hunched on the front of a Mercedes, together. I notice his staring at me, his head tilted sideways. He's smiling and we sit there, together smiling like idiots for a long time. His smile is different, his real smile, he used to try and hide it pushing his lips together but the smile is so open. so free of consequence that it ruins his cover. If anyone ever saw that smile they'd know he wasn't the pain-in-the-ass sarcastic, cynical, jerk that everyone thought he was. They'd see the person that I see, carefree, happy as a clam with a book and a coffee. Music acting as a bonus. We continue to sit. Just sitting, not speaking words, watching the sun go down. Eventually I turn to him. "I was scared too." He silences my statement with a soft kiss, warm shivers running up and down my skin. He pulls away, looking at me with an odd look in his eyes.

"Did you feel that?" I nod smiling again. 

"It felt like the first." After a pause I began speaking again. "Listen, maybe me started this whole thing too fast. Let's just go back, we can start over. From the beginning, just you and me." He nods, smiling at me.

"The first thing we do when we get back, we read that journal." I smile and get into the car beside him the air so much warmer than before and I feel so giddy that I giggle for no reason and flip the radio on perusing the stations. Then I realize whose car we're in. The realization hits me like the icy cold feeling of being out in the winter in pajamas. 

" I think we'd better go find Paris first."

**Uhoh…just when things were getting good, Paris spoils the moment. Where the hell is Paris** Find out after you review of Course!**


	6. Second Chances

He frowned and turned onto his street, and I was relieved to see that Paris was sitting on Jess' front steps, looking peaceful (a strange look for Paris) reading the Iliad. She saw us stop in front of the house and stood up, hurrying over to her car. "You realize that grand theft auto is a felony in all fifty states." I laugh and when she see's us both smiling, she smiles (yet another strange look for Paris) I take it everyone is smiling and happy again, did you visit Munchkinland?"

"Ha, ha. Keep it up Paris we might have to stop at the hospital for my busted gut." Jess hurried into the house.

"What's his problem?"

"You scared him. I'm surprised that you aren't use to that kind of reaction."

"I'm good at it aren't" She says buffing her nails and blowing them off. "I take it you want me to drive home."

"I'd be eternally greatful."

"You will won't you." She hops back into her car and I venture up the steps and see Jess coming down the stairs carrying his army surplus bag.

"That's all you brought?"

"I hadn't decided if I was going to go back or not. You know I might've spoken to you on the phone if you'd waited another day." He deserved the punch in the arm he received a few seconds later. "You punch like a girl."

"Good." I sit down in the miniscule backseat, he joins me a few seconds later after loading his stuff into the trunk. I pull out his journal and hand it back to him. He opens to a particular page and shows it to me silently.

Sometimes we get

Second chances

Sometimes we never

Make it past the first

It really makes me wonder

Why some things happen

When they do

It really makes me wonder

Why it wasn't me

Instead of you

And when you say

It doesn't matter

Well it does

And all it takes is a mistake

To eat your words

Just one more time I think

I'll drive on home tonight

Sometimes

We never see the warning

And the voice in your head

Tells you not to go

It really makes me wonder

Why some things happen

When they do

It really makes me wonder

Why it wasn't me

Instead of you

And when you say

It doesn't matter

Well it does

And all it takes is a mistake

To eat your words

Just one more time I think

I'll drive on home tonight

And when you look

It's gone

It's too late to turn around

And it's another day

Facing yourself and

The things that you've done

And when you say

It doesn't matter

Well it does

And all it takes is a mistake

To eat your words

Just one more time I think

I'll drive on home tonight

It's then that I realize I'm at a cross roads of my life then and my life now. I'm not sure what direction I'm moving, I know things will never be the same, not between us, I think we've both grown a lot stronger, he's learned to trust. I've learned to think before I act and both of us have grown together, all I know is, I've come full circle.

**The End**

Yep, that's all folks. Maybe I'll do a sequel, maybe I'll do a whole new story with a whole new angle. I want to know what you guys like to read. WrItE mE a ReViEw PrEtTy PlEaSe. Tell my what you want to read!!! Maybe I'll do something interactive. Just let me know..KK.

Happy Reviewing!!

Second Chances-Michelle Branch


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